Once Upon A Hotel Room
by doctorkaitlyn
Summary: Spencer doesn't like sharing hotel rooms with anyone but he hates sharing a room with Derek Morgan.   Rated T for mild sexual content.  Reid/Morgan
1. Chapter 1

Spencer Reid never really liked sharing hotel rooms when the team traveled to a city. To be completely honest, he didn't like hotel rooms at all. Although the BAU could afford to stay in pretty decent hotels, he hated staring down at the bed that had been slept in by so many other people. The thought of what have happened in that bed made him shudder and usually he would avoid sleeping until absolutely needed. But, although he hated sleeping on the starched sheets that made him itchy, sharing a hotel room with someone was even worse.

The team rarely had to share rooms but there had been a few times where the budget had been a little tighter than normal or they couldn't book as many rooms as possible due to a possible busy season or whatever you like. Throughout his nearly six year career with the Behavioural Analysis Unit, Spencer had shared rooms with all of the other male agents and, although some were worse than others, they each had flaws about them that got a little irritating in such an enclosed space.

Gideon had been the easiest to share a room with. He was quiet, often too focused on the case to draw Spencer into conversation unless it revolved around an idea or a piece of evidence. The only problem was that he tended to stay up even later than Spencer did, leaving the main lights on as he simply stared at the information laid out on his bed. Spencer didn't have a problem with some light and if it had simply been a bedside lamp, he wouldn't have cared that it was left on until the wee hours of the morning. But with the ugly fluorescents glaring, it was nearly impossible for him to sleep unless he rooted under the blankets or stuck his head under the pillow. Gideon also paced and, although Spencer was guilty of it from time to time, the sound got drilled into his brain after awhile and simply stayed there. He also didn't care much for cleaning up, leaving towels on the bathroom floor or food containers on the table.

If Gideon was messy, Hotch was the exact opposite. He was obsessively clean, although the housecleaners certainly liked that trait about him. When he woke up in the morning, he made his bed so tightly you could have bounced a quarter off of it and he often made Spencer's too. Everything had to be absolutely meticulous and his pure intensity had often been overwhelming in itself. Hotch also tended to talk in his sleep, especially after him and Haley divorced.

Rossi was a cross between Hotch and Gideon. He tended to talk to himself a lot, thinking aloud. Sometimes, it seemed like he just ignored Spencer, sinking into his extensive memory vault to try and compare their current case to any he'd worked on in the past. Because of this, he often got too distracted to really pay attention to anything else, like making sure the floor of the bathroom was dry. There had been a time once where Spencer, exhausted and not paying too much attention himself, had stepped into the bathroom and slipped, nearly cracking his skull on the floor. Rossi had just gotten out of the shower but Spencer didn't say anything, staying silent. Thankfully, he almost never ended up with Rossi and had only went through this dangerous encounter once.

However, despite putting him indirectly in harm's way, Rossi wasn't the person Spencer dreaded sharing with the most. He would have taken slippery floors, bright lights or sleep talking any day over sharing a room with Derek Morgan, for one reason. He _liked_ Morgan. As in, "get butterflies from looking at them" like. As in "Reid, you're a pathetic teenage girl" like. When they were out in the field, he could easily put those feelings at the back of his mind, focusing exclusively on solving the case at hand. However, when Morgan was taking off his shirt, preparing for a shower or simply changing clothes, it was nearly impossible to tear his eyes off of that body. Really, he was as close to a perfect roommate as you could get but that damn _want_ nagging him was enough to nearly drive him crazy.

So thankfully, Spencer usually found himself simply staring down at the hotel bed, wondering just how many times people had had sex on it, instead of trying _not_ to stare at Derek Morgan's abs. However, after fighting off his desires for nearly three years, one night came along where everything came together in the most unexpected of ways.

They had taken a case during the summer in a small beach town in Maine, where the Unsub had been breaking into cottage's during the evening, around the time the sun set and slitting the father's throats. There seemed to be no sexual component to the crimes and neither the mother's or children were remotely harmed. However, he had also cut off each victim's left hand at the scene, the only souvenir they could find. The case was proving to be a difficult one and Spencer would have loved to lie in his (single) hotel room, savouring the air conditioner and just letting his mind run rampant in the hopes that it might pick up on something small that would lead to a suspect.

But unfortunately, that could not be the case. Because the murders were taking place in the middle of the town's busy season, they were lucky enough to get the three rooms they'd managed. JJ and Emily were automatically placed together and Rossi said that he wanted to share with Hotch this time around. They seemed to get along quite well with each other and Spencer had a feeling they could talk about their failed marriages. However, as they discussed it on the plane, Morgan had swivelled around to face him, already smiling rather goofily.

"Looks like it's you and me this time around," he said and although Spencer agreed, shrugging rather indifferently, inside his stomach was doing flips.

"_You are not a teenager_," he thought forcefully, trying to banish those ridiculous images from his head. Some of them were rather graphic, enough to make his cheeks briefly flush red, but he stowed those away deep in his mind, focusing completely on the case file at hand.

He managed to make it through the entire day like this, working frantically through the little evidence they already had. Occasionally, he found his body tensing as Morgan brushed by but for the most part, he kept his affections hidden away. He thought he found a tidbit of information that might of been useful; the cottages were all cleaned by the same company during the off season. However, all of their employees were female, which led to another dead end.

After an extremely long day, the chief of police dismissed them around eleven o'clock. They had no new evidence and no indication as to when the Unsub would strike again. So far, the three victims he had killed seemed to have no fixed gap of time between them and really, all they could do was continue to study the evidence and wait.

Spencer always hated waiting for a killer to strike again but, as Morgan unlocked their hotel door using their key card, he thought he was going to hate it a little more than usual.

* * *

><p>Even though it was midnight, he couldn't sleep yet. He sat on the still made bed, sleeves rolled up to his elbow, case file open in front of him. He had poured over it countless times, looking for the smallest detail that would break the case. But there was nothing; no reliable DNA, no fibres, no shoeprints. Frustrated, he closed the folder and dropped it on the floor, holding his head in his hands.<p>

"I've got nothing either," Morgan sighed from his own bed, where he had an identical folder. He'd already had a shower and parts of his shirt were sticking to his still damp skin. Spencer could barely manage to take a quick glimpse out of the corner of his eye before he began to visibly turn scarlet. His shoulder length hair was slightly greasy but he didn't feel up to taking a shower yet. Instead, he jumped off the bed and began pacing, muttering under his breath everything relevant to the case. His mind catalogued the houses again, searching for something small he hadn't noticed before.

"Kid, you're gonna wear a hole through that floor," Morgan chuckled but Spencer couldn't stop, pacing slightly faster, eyes now shut. There simply had to be _something. _But as far as he could tell, there was nothing. The Unsub was like a ghost, disappearing into thin air. He was organized, precise, intelligent. The only way they'd get a clue was if he wanted them to or if he messed up.

"God_dammit_," he groaned, stopping in front of the door and leaning his forehead against it. The air conditioner made the metal freezing but he welcomed it, fingers tapping against the cold surface.

"Reid, calm down," Morgan said and he heard a creak of bedsprings as he stood up. This sent a flurry of other images into Spencer's mind, each of them very sexual. "We'll have a break in the case. He'll mess up or get frustrated that he's not being allowed the spotlight he thinks he deserves." The police had wisely kept the murders as secret as possible, saying that the houses were being investigated for mere break-ins. Although there was still some panic, it was nothing compared to what would have arose if the residents had known it was murder.

"I just feel like I should know," he sighed, turning around so that his back was against the door. His eyes were still shut and he idly chewed on his lip.

"You can't know _everything,_ although it sure seems sometimes like you do." The two of them shared a chuckle and when Spencer opened his eyes, Morgan was a lot closer than he expected him to be, standing within a foot of him. His eyes had taken on a curious look that Spencer had seen only a few times, mainly on a day when Morgan had found a girl that _really_ attracted his attention, more than usual. They were glazed over slightly and looked oddly disconnected from reality. Spencer felt his heart began to beat a little faster and his skin became hotter despite the air conditioning and the cool door against his back.

"Hey Morgan?" Spencer asked, aware that Morgan was slowly, almost nervously, moving closer to him. This sure wasn't the foxy man he'd seen out on the dance floor with five ladies at once. This Morgan seemed almost shy.

"Yeah?"

"Do you like sharing a room with me?" By this point, they were sharing the same breathing space, close enough that if Spencer had stretched out his hand, it would have brushed against Morgan's ribs.

"You wanna know the truth?" Spencer nodded and Morgan chuckled again, the sound brief and definitely nervous. "No. I hate it because it's torture."

"Why?" Pinned between the door and Morgan, Spencer could feel his nerves pleasantly tingling. He was still convinced that this was some kind of joke but somewhere in his mind, he knew that this was no prank. In that part of his mind, he was nearly giddy with the thought that maybe he wasn't the only one who had been so tormented for years.

"Because of _you._ Everything about you. You're the only guy I've ever felt anything remotely close to romantic interest in and just being around you makes me hurt." He tentatively reached a hand out, fingers twirling around a stray ringlet of Spencer's hair. He sighed, eyes fluttering shut again as he craned his neck against Morgan's hand, feeling it brush against his skin.

"I hate sharing a room with you too," he murmured, making a content noise as his hair was stroked. "But I think I could get used to it." He opened his eyes and found himself immediately staring into Morgan's deep brown ones, mere inches away from his face. It was obvious that Morgan was struggling with words, licking his lips nervously. It was one of the only times Spencer had seen him truly frustrated and he found it quite amusing.

But then Morgan was kissing him quite softly, lips just resting on his own. Spencer felt his heart skip a beat or two as he pressed forward slightly, one hand resting itself slightly awkwardly on Morgan's hip. His other arm lay at his side until he felt Morgan's fingers entwine with his, making him smile even through their deepened kiss. His mind was currently racing, alternating between the obvious 'I can't believe this is happening!' mental squeals to 'I wonder how far this will go.' The latter became more prevalent as Morgan sighed and turned their innocent kiss into something far more passionate, plunging his hand into Spencer's thick hair.

All of Morgan's experience with the ladies had definitely worked out; he was an _amazing_ kisser. He stepped back from the door, pulling Spencer with him, one arm around his lower back. If it hadn't of been for that arm supporting him, Spencer thought that he may have simply toppled over onto the floor. As it was, he still swayed slightly, fingers clutching the damp fabric of Morgan's shirt. Feeling the muscle tone underneath only made his skin grow hotter and he let his hands roam down to Morgan's waist. Morgan was unbuttoning his shirt, fingers trailing down his chest as he went. Taking his lips off Spencer's, he moved them to his neck, holding him a little tighter as he felt his body slump slightly.

"You okay?" he asked, feeling the practical death grip Spencer had on his shoulders. Before he could answer, Spencer forced himself to take deep breaths, slowing down his rather quick and shallow breathing.

"I think so," he panted, gasping a little as Morgan bit down on his earlobe ever so gently. His knees were weak, making the balance problem even more pronounced. Morgan caught onto this and led them backwards to his bed, lying down with Spencer beside him.

"Is that better?" he asked, eyes flicking down to Spencer's exposed chest before coming back up. Spencer nodded; now that he didn't have to worry about falling over, he felt much more confident. He sat up for a moment and wriggled out of his shirt, tossing it to the floor before scooting over.

"This is much better," he said, taking in a quick glimpse of Morgan's smirk before kissing him, their bodies pressed together. The clock said half past midnight but they didn't get to sleep for another hour.

* * *

><p>When Spencer woke up the next morning, as the sun was just beginning to come above the horizon, he noticed something rather peculiar. He was staring at his bed. He could tell it was his because his bag was still sitting on it, unopened. In his confused and still sleepy mind, he couldn't figure out why his bed was still unmade or whose bed he was lying in instead. Yawning, he rolled onto this other side and immediately froze, the puzzle pieces finally clicking together.<p>

Morgan was facing him, eyes shut, not quite snoring. His bare shoulder was visible and as he noticed this, Spencer noticed that, not only was his own shirt gone, all his clothes were gone. Laying back down with a huge grin on his face, he sighed contently, giggling a little as a punctuation mark. Beside him, Morgan stirred, moving slightly but not waking up. Watching him become still again, Spencer let his mind go to the night before, where everything was preserved in perfect detail. The thoughts made him start blushing and he rubbed his face with one hand, feeling how scruffy his face was getting.

"Morgan," he murmured, moving closer and nudging him with his elbow. "We have to get up soon." Hotch was probably already awake, dressed and showered and he liked getting the team up very early, even if nothing had happened overnight.

"I know," he sighed, more awake than it had appeared. His eyes fluttered open slowly and he yawned, arching his back until it cracked rather loudly. Spencer giggled and, sitting up, began to catalogue the room, trying to find all his clothes. While he was doing this, Morgan sat up and kissed his shoulder, his skin warm against Spencer's cold back.

"So, do you think we should share a hotel room more often?'

**Author's Note: R&R greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading. (:**


	2. The Day After

The lights were dim and the plane was nearly silent, other than the underlying hum from the engines. One of the team was mumbling in their sleep, Prentiss maybe. From his position, Morgan could only see Reid. And he was perfectly content with the view.

Reid was stretched out on the couch, long legs tangled together. His hair was dangling in front of his face, moving every so often as he exhaled. Only his nose stuck out of the thick brown curtain. One arm was under his head, the other dangling across his body and over the edge of the couch.

They'd only been on the plane for half an hour but everyone else, other than Morgan, was asleep. The case they'd been working on seemed nearly impossible to solve and, with five bodies, the town seemed ready to turn against them. Five fathers, vacationing in their summer cottages, brutally murdered. Their throats were slit and their left hands were removed from their bodies. There was no physical evidence, no clues. _Nothing._ The only connection between the five cottages was that they were all cleaned by the same company. However, Reid had crossed out that connection when it was discovered that all the employees were female.

Garcia, however, had saved the day. She had run the name of the employees through the database anyways and discovered that one of the employees was actually technically still a male. Juanita Harris was a man who was going through hormone therapy to become a woman. He was the unsub, suffering from a delusion that the father's of the families were abusive and that he was doing God's work against the Devil's servants. That explained why he removed the left hand, since Reid (unnecessarily) explained to the team about the left hand belonging to the Devil, according to tradition.

The last twenty four hours of Morgan's life had definitely been action packed. On any day, his job was full of excitement but this day had been more exciting than normal. He'd woken up next to an absolutely gorgeous human being after a night that far surpassed any he could remember in the longest time. And for the rest of the day, right up to the time they'd boarded the plane, his eyes were constantly drifting back towards said human being, knowing exactly what he looked like without his button-up and trousers on.

And even then, with Reid on his side, looking quite peaceful despite the things they'd seen, his eyes wouldn't leave him. They took in every detail, from the way his fingers were almost imperceptibly twitching to the fact he was wearing two different colored socks. One was blue, the other yellow and covered in some symbol Morgan couldn't make out from his place.

Someone cried out and this time, it was definitely Prentiss. She only yelled once before falling silent, no other sign of a nightmare. Morgan wished she would continue talking. He didn't like the eerie silence, only broken by the engines. None of the BAU team even snored.

Reid squirmed a little and, after confirming no one else was awake, Morgan went to kneel beside the couch. Up close, he could see that Reid was chewing on his lip in his sleep, bringing the same patch of skin back into his mouth over and over.

"Reid, wake up," he murmured, nuzzling his nose. He stirred slightly but his eyes stayed shut, teeth still chewing on his lip. Leaning forward, Morgan removed his lip from his mouth and, with a quickness he didn't know the younger man possessed, Reid was sitting up, panting heavily. Morgan backed away slightly, seeing the panic running through his eyes.

"Reid, it's just me," he said quietly, reaching out to take one of his balled up fists from his lap. His fingers were still tense, seeming locked. "Were you dreaming?"

"No," he answered, lying back down. Morgan could tell that he's lying but he didn't say anything, perching himself on the couch and letting Reid rest his head in his lap. They both knew that what they were doing was incredibly risky, since relationships amongst members of the Bureau was forbidden, but everyone else was asleep and all Morgan wanted was another brief taste of the previous night, to know what it wasn't just a hoax. His fingers idly combed through Reid's hair, lightly pulling through some knots. Reid sighed contently, one hand resting on Morgan's knee.

"How is this going to work?" he asked softly, tracing patterns in the worn fabric. His voice was a wisp, barely there.

"I don't know," Morgan admitted, sighing. "But we'll find a way." He tilted his head back against the couch, letting his eyes drift shut while his fingers continued their idle work. Reid murmured something, wriggling around until he was comfortable, before falling silent. Morgan promised himself that he wouldn't fall asleep, that he was just resting his eyes for a few moments. He was only kidding himself; he was absolutely exhausted and he was dreaming five minutes later, fingers still resting in Reid's hair.

Prentiss wook with a jolt twenty minutes later, the last images of her nightmares fading away in her head. Everyone else was still asleep but, glancing at her watch, the plane would be descending within the next fifteen minutes. She had this urge for a cup of coffee but when she shakily stood up to get some, she's stopped in her tracks at the sight before her. Reid was sprawled across the couch, like usual, but his head was lying square in Morgan's lap, hair draped across his face. She knows it probably didn't mean anything but nonetheless, she smiled and got her coffee.

"Morgan, wake up." When he opened his eyes, Prentiss was smiling at him, despite the rather compromising position. "We're gonna land soon. I'll let you wake up Reid."

And as he leaned down to do just that, laughing at Reid's scrunched up nose as he was so rudely jerked out of sleep, Morgan had a feeling that everything _was_ going to work.

**Author's Note: I'm sorry that this isn't up to par with the first chapter; I wrote it in present tense originally so I had to change everything around to make it sound a bit better... which ended up making it sound stilted. Anyways, hope you enjoyed both chapters; expect more Reid/Morgan in the future, posting these on here has revived my love for them. **


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